Page 99 of Notorious

I walk with my boyfriend on the beach, the cool sand giving way under our feet as the water licks the shore. And when we get home, Johnny makes me see way more stars than were visible in the sky tonight.

I have a boyfriend—a real one—for the first time in my adult life. I couldn’t be happier.

CHAPTER 33

Johnny

Afew days after Kurt and I decide to be boyfriends, I’m outside on Kurt’s ground floor patio, using his sleek, shiny barbecue.

To be honest, I ain’t sure that I’m not dreaming this whole experience of being with him, because from where I was, this is a complete U-turn. I don’t recognize my life right now.

I’m flipping a big hunk of brisket when a throat clears behind me—one I recognize. I’m glad he knows not to startle me. Then two arms slide around my middle. I link my left hand with his, rings sliding against each other, as he puts his cheek between my shoulders. “What’cha doing, babe?”

Babe. I like his names for me almost as much as I like calling him precious. But he’s so precious he has no idea.

“Thought I’d make you some brisket,” I say. “It’s been cooking on low for hours. Should be gettin’ real tender. Wait until you try Mama’s special sauce.”

He sniffs appreciatively. “It smells great. Thanks. Need some help?”

I shake my head and turn around to kiss him. Kissing, cooking, all these kitchen gadgets. It feels established. Not permanent, but more than temporary. I’ve always kept my own places pretty spare, so I could pick up and leave whenever I needed to. So being surrounded by all Kurt’s appliances and extras makes me feel settled. Like I’m putting down roots.

Also, cooking seems to make the violins go quiet.

Kurt makes the violins go quiet, which is more important than an air fryer, my mental voice scolds. But this is all so new, and my brain is in such turmoil, that I think I should cut myself some slack. If what I can do is grill a brisket, well, then, maybe I celebrate that.

While the food cooks, Kurt comes out with glasses of water, which reminds me of something I’ve noticed. “You don’t drink the beer in your fridge,” I say. “Is that because of Vegas—one hangover too many?”

He shakes his head. “Not that. I decided not to drink around you, since I figured you couldn’t have it while they were tinkering with your medication.”

My heart swells at his thoughtfulness. “Drink your beer,” I say. “If you want one. I think I can have one every once in a while. But I’m good without it, too.” I sip the water. Something else dawns on me. “You got rid of the Gatorade, didn’t you?”

“Yes,” he whispers.

“Thanks.”

We eat on the patio with the dull roar of Highway 1 below us. Just beyond the row of houses on the other side of the highway is the beach, where all kinds of people are out—surfers, folks sitting on the sand, people walking their dogs. One dog’s pulling its owner like it’s mushing on snow, and I point it out to Kurt.

“Would you want a dog?” he asks, and danger bells go off in my brain. Because he’s the sort who would come home with a puppy if I asked for it.

I do want a puppy, but I ain’t gonna burden him with one.

“Never had any of my own,” I say. “But on the ranch, there was a pack of them. I loved them all, even the unruly hounds.”

“That’s kind of a nonanswer.”

“I feel like if I say yes, a dog’s gonna show up here.”

“It could. Would you want one? What kind? A mutt or a purebred?”

“I couldn’t support one of them puppy mills. Yeah, there are reputable breeders, but I think I’d want to adopt one from the pound. I feel like I’m not in a position to be able to take care of a dog, though, and I’m not sure there’s enough room for one here.”

“Okay. Got it.” He tilts his head. “What if I brought one home anyway?”

I open my mouth, but no words come out.

He smiles even broader. He got me. He knows I’d love it.

“I see. Okay. What kind of dog?” Kurt asks.

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